


Piecemeal

by SyntheticEuphoria



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-27
Updated: 2012-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-31 19:24:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SyntheticEuphoria/pseuds/SyntheticEuphoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some of my drabbles are just too short for me to post individually. The NON-explicit ones shall all go here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sunstorm, Grimlock - "My Bad"

“Oops… My bad.” He looked down at the fallen mech, although he kept his distance. “Me Grimlock not see you there.” It really hadn’t been on purpose. But he wasn’t _really_ all that apologetic, either.

On the ground, the glowing figure glared and rubbed his helm. “Next time, don’t randomly chuck boulders into the air!”

“How else we Dinobots supposed play ‘catch’?”

Sunstorm growled, the aura around him flaring. “I am the emissary of Primus, himself! You shall learn to fear his wrath!”

“…This mean you not want to play with us?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TF Fic Prompt Generator](http://www.freewebs.com/tfgenerators/TF2007generator3.html)  
>  Sunstorm / Grimlock / my bad


	2. Perceptor, Dead End - "Memorial"

“Would you like to hold a memorial?”

Dead End started at the unexpected voice, his back thumping against the tree behind him. “W-what are you…?” Jumping to his pedes, he drew his rifle and aimed. “Hold it right there, Autobot!”

A black helm tipped to the side in mild curiosity. “I have no intentions of relocating at the present time.”

“You. You’re… Perceptor. The science bot.” The Stunticon’s stance was off-kilter, but his aim was true. “I should take you to Megatron.”

“Before or after the service?”

“What?”

“I asked you a moment ago if you would like to hold a memorial. You have yet to state ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”

“Memorial? For… What for?” A purple visor blinked, a visible sign of the confusion already clear in his voice.

Perceptor’s optics calmly, pointedly shifted to gaze at the dead rabbit near Dead End’s feet. “You seemed distraught.”

“I… I-I don’t care about some organic vermin!”

“The way you swerved in an attempt to avoid it speaks otherwise.”

Dead End snarled behind his mask and took a step closer, his weapon raising to aim at the Autobot’s head. “I was _trying_ to hit it, you idiot!”

“Then why were you crying?”

The question caused the Decepticon to freeze for several moments. His hand began to shake. “I-I wasn’t…”

“It _bothered_ you that you killed it without meaning to, did it not?” Perceptor moved himself closer this time, paying no mind to the barrel in his face. “That it was an accident?”

Dead End steadied his hand, held the grip securely. “It did not _bother_ me that a filthy organic met its demise.”

“But you killed it. You killed it without meaning to. You snuffed out a life that could have had longer in this world.” His expression had not changed since he’d made himself known. He was calm, nonjudgmental, acceptant.

“I…” The gun wavered again.

Perceptor smiled, softly, the tiniest upward movement of the corners of his mouth. “It’s not like battle, is it? Then, you’re fighting. Killing others, causing them physical harm – that’s what battle _is_. But outside, by accident…”

Dead End’s vents hitched.

“It reminds you of your own mortality, does it not? How easily and unexpectedly a life can be lost.”

The Stunticon trembled.

“Would you like to hold a memorial?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TF Fic Prompt Generator](http://www.freewebs.com/tfgenerators/TF2007generator3.html)  
>  Perceptor / Dead End / grieving


	3. Moonracer, Silverbolt - "Focus"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my beloved Dragin ([Xenotechnophile](http://archiveofourown.org/users/xenotechnophile/)), who _originally_ gave me the prompt of "Fireflight / Flareup / flying lessons", but I couldn't manage Flareup as I had no pre-existing head-canon. So she let me switch to this, instead.  <3

“You’re sure you want to…?”

“Yes.”

“But if something happens, we’ll…”

“It won’t.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because I _trust_ you.”

That had been the conversation leading up to Silverbolt now flying several hundred feet above the ground in root-mode, with a very eager Moonracer clinging to his back. Well, less clinging and more _riding_. She was straddling his midsection just above his hips, misleadingly delicate-looking hands curled over his shoulders as she leaned first to one side, then to the other, in her effort to see _everything_.

“Can we go faster, ‘Bolt?”

“I… I don’t want to drop you.”

“Come on, silly – you won’t drop me. Just a little faster?”

“Well… alright.”

He had to admit, even as he gained speed and rose a bit higher… It wasn’t quite so scary up here, as long as she was with him. As long as he could focus on her.


	4. Starscream, Shockwave - "And He Watched, And He Waited"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of death in this one, but doesn't go into detail. Also, STRONG hints of romantic relationship.  
> We'll say "PG-13" for the rating; not enough to get moved over to [BYOE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/347534).

The sight beyond the balcony was one of destroyed buildings, a haze-covered sky, and mechs laboring in the streets without rest. The Autobots had been defeated – crushed, not by the Decepticons, but by a virus of human design; an accident, so it had been claimed, but no less devastating.

Megatron was dead. This had _not_ been an accident.

Starscream idly tapped one sharp talon on the banister, watching the goings-on with a look of mild interest. A presence manifested in the shadows of the room behind him, large and powerful. Starscream smirked, not bothering to turn his head. “You do good work.”

“I am pleased that you approve, Starscream.”

“All those years of waiting… Finally paid off, neh?”

“Patience _is_ a virtue.”

The rubble of former towers and plazas had been marked for demolition weeks ago. The haze was nothing compared to the polluted cloud-cover that heralded an almost daily shower of acid rain just a year prior. Many of the mechs working below wore tired, but self-satisfied grins; no one was forcing them to keep such long hours.

“Think they’ll ever wise up?” A strong, lilac-colored hand wrapped itself snugly around the Seeker’s midsection, pulling him flush against the larger mech’s torso. Starscream responded by reaching up and behind him with both arms, looping them behind the other’s neck. Idly, he traced one finger up the line of an audio-finial. He smiled at the soft sigh of appreciation he received.

“Unlikely. But even if it should happen, what could they do?”

Chuckling pleasantly, Starscream tipped his helm backwards and looked up into a single yellow optic. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”


End file.
